3 Crash and Burn
by piccolina789
Summary: Third in the series of post-episode stories. Spoilers for all CSI season three episodes, beginning with "Revenge is Best Served Cold". GSR.
1. Jealousy is Best When Aloof

**A/N: **This is just a short one to kick of season three, but expect a few more updates throughout the day. Lots to write about :)

Spoilers for episode 3x1, Revenge is Best Served Cold.

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><p>"Love sees sharply, hatred sees even more sharp, but jealousy sees the sharpest for it is love and hate at the same time."*<p>

It didn't help that he was young and good-looking.

I'd heard Warrick, Nick and even Greg tease about this Hank, but I saw him for the first time myself en route to a scene. Just a quick glace as he and Warrick exchanged pleasantries, but it was enough.

It wouldn't have been so bad if he were, well, unattractive or deficient in some way. But no, he looked every bit the Romeo.

In the ten seconds I had to take him in, my mind went crazy – seeing him with Sara, making her laugh, touching her, kissing her…

Stop.

I needed to stop. This was not healthy. I had told myself that distancing myself from her and her private life was the best thing I could do. It would not do me any good to have my imagination on overdrive.

So I focused my thoughts and energy into quiet, steady work on the case. I realized that that was how I needed to carry myself from now on. Calm indifference. Quiet contemplation.

Thankfully, my hearing held out for most of the case. One less thing to worry about. For now.

I left my office for the night a several paces behind Warrick and Sara. Coco beans had turned out to be our killer, but they weren't concerned with that little discovery.

"I hear your man Hank is a cognac kind of guy," Warrick said, elbowing Sara in the side.

"What the…" Sara replied, her voice raising. "Who told you that?"  
>Warrick shrugged.<p>

"Greg."

"I swear, I am going to kill that boy before long," Sara said. "Don't listen to a word he says."

"Hey, you're preaching to the choir," Warrick said, holding his hands up for effect. "Greg's a gossip-monger. And besides, I didn't peg Hank as a cognac guy. I like him."

"You do?"

"Yeah," Warrick said nonchalantly. "Nice enough guy, decent, and he makes you smile. Guy's all right by me."

"Well, dually noted," Sara said, her voice hinting a smile.

My temper wanted to flare. The pit of jealousy that I'd long tried to suppress wanted to bubble over. My imagination wanted to run wild. But I turned and left the building through the side door, walking through the parking lot alone.

Calm indifference.

* * *

><p>*Quote is an Arab proverb<p> 


	2. The Dismissed is Permitted

**A/N: **Spoilers for episode 3x2, The Accused is Entitled.

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><p>"Who wants lunch?"<p>

Catherine asked the question once we were outside the courthouse, the media circus that surround Tom Haviland behind us, and back in the sunshine.

"I'm in," Warrick said.

"Sorry, Cath," Nick replied. "I've got _another_ court case this afternoon. I'm going to go back to the lab to review before it starts."

"Grissom?"

Grissom lifted his head, pulled out of the trance he'd been in for the last two weeks.

"No," he said simply.

"Fine, fine," Catherine said, waving away his answer. "You don't appreciate good company. Sara?"

I looked at her apologetically.

"Rain check?"

"You got it. It's you and me, Warrick."

We all began to head our separate ways, and I unlocked my car, hot from sitting in the blazing sun all morning, and sat in the driver's seat with the door open. I sighed.

Marjorie Wescott played me for a fool. She undermined my credibility and made me look like a whining, grappling, starry-eyed girl who would do just about anything for a man's attention. That was _not _me. Anyone who knew me could vouch for that. But up there on the stand, under her cold eyes and the gaze of the judge and the weight of anticipation in the air, I lost the ability to defend myself.

I guess it all turned out okay in the end. Tom Haviland was not going to get away with the murders of the two women. But I still felt defeated.

I stared at my cell phone. Was it strange, that after being interrogated about whatever our "relationship" was, the person I wanted to talk to was Hank? We really weren't anything official per se, but Warrick was right. He did make me smile. And right then, I felt like I could use one.

So I called him.

"Hey, how'd court go?" he said as his hello.

"Terribly," I replied. "Well, for me. Grissom pulled through in the end."  
>"Did she give you any trouble about the bra?"<p>

He was referring to the garment he'd moved in his attempts to revive one of the victims.

"Just a little," I admitted. "But don't worry about it."

"Sara, I'm sorry if what I did put you in a tight spot," he said. "I didn't know that every move we made would be examined in court…"

"Seriously, don't worry about it," I repeated. "She just… got me a little flustered, I guess."

We both paused.

"Sara," he said finally. "Have you ever been to Pahrump?"

"I… what?"

"There's a really nice vineyard there," he explained. "Pahrump Valley Winery. It's not even an hour away, and they have really good food and really good wine. It's beautiful. I want to take you there."

I paused, a little surprised. A vineyard was a far cry from the handful of movie and bowling dates we'd had so far.

_You deserve to have a life._

The words were ringing in my ears. Why does everything he says follow me?

"What the heck," I said. "Let's do it."

"I'll call and book us a reservation," he rushed. "I hope you like blush wines, theirs are fantastic. I can—"

"Whoah, whoah," I interrupted, stopping him. "Court's over, but I still have a lot of work to do. You weren't thinking tonight, were you?"

"Oh. Uh, no."

I smiled just a little at the disappointment in his voice.

"I have a night off this weekend," I offered. "How's Friday?"

"Friday's perfect," he said. "I'll be looking forward to it."

"Me too."

"Bye, Sara."  
>"Bye."<br>I ended the call and closed my car door, the temperature inside the vehicle sufficiently cooled. I had to admit that I was excited for Friday. It had been a long time since a guy had taken me somewhere as nice as a vineyard.

Fleetingly, I wondered what Grissom thought of Hank, and of what was going on between us. I didn't know if they'd ever even met, but the surprise and almost alarm in his voice when he spoke to Philip Gerard told me that at best, he was uncomfortable. I didn't know what to do, or how to feel. I had painfully obvious feelings for Grissom, if I were to be brutally honest, I would probably admit that a part of me even loved him, but his actions recently had proved that he was capable of hurting me. He kept his promise for a while – he'd tried harder after I threatened to quit – but lately, I'd felt him drifting again, further and further away.

What was I supposed to do? I couldn't continue waiting for him forever. I'd already proven that that only left me feeling disappointed and lonely in the end.

Hank was not Grissom. He could never be Grissom, replace him, or wipe away the affection I felt for him. But he was good company and he made me feel like I deserved attention. And he made me smile.

For now, that would have to do.


	3. Let the Friend Be Aware

**A/N: **Whew! I got in all three stories I wanted to do. I'm not sure what kind of potential Wednesday's episodes hold (and I also have to work), so we'll see how that goes.

Also, two other things. One - these stories _will _increasingly become more GSR, one, because that's what I write, and two, that's the way the seasons progress. I apologize if that's not of interest, but I will most definitely keep all the characters involved as much as I can, and _will_ write from their POV when it feels appropriate (such as here). Two - there's a shout-out in here to a review on the season two series, "Blinded Affection". I hope they catch it :)

Spoilers for episode 3x3, Let the Seller Beware.

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><p>"So how was your big solo case?"<p>

I stuck a couple of hash browns on my fork and shoveled them into my mouth. Sara just continued to stare at her plate of whole-wheat toast and yogurt. I'd heard her case was gruesome, but I didn't realize it was _that _bad.

"Am I pathetic?"

My head shot up in surprise. That sure wasn't the response I expected.

"What?" I sputtered. "Sara – of course not – no. You're so good at what you do…"

"I'm not talking about work."

I swallowed a mouthful and stared at her.

"Then what are you talking about?" I asked.

She shifted uncomfortably. Since the episode with Nigel Crane, Sara and I had been spending more time together outside of work, and started to become better friends. I found it as easy to talk with her as when I talked with my sisters, and she was as fun to hang out with as Warrick. She listened when I needed to talk, and teased me in that way we always do when I needed a smile. But still, I could tell she was a little uncomfortable with the subject. Like she wanted to let it out but didn't want anyone to know at the same time.

"Is this about what went down with you and Grissom at the crime scene?" I prompted.

She grimaced.

"You heard that?"

"I was right around the corner," I admitted apologetically.

"Yeah," she confessed. "It is."

She was obviously waiting for me to say something, but I wanted her to continue. And she did.

"During the Tom Haviland case last week… my relationship with Hank... came up," she said unenthusiastically. "Grissom told me that I deserved to have a life. And now he calls me up on my night off and expects me to be there for him at the drop of a pin. I guess I'm just confused as to what he expects me to do."

She lifted her gaze from her full plate and looked at me, her eyes pleading for an answer that I didn't have. I sighed and pushed some hash browns into a pool of ketchup, wishing that I could be there for her like she'd been there for me.

"It's Grissom, Sara," I said. "When does anything that man does make sense?"

"It's frustrating," she said softly.

"I know."

I watched her fiddle with the strawberries atop her yogurt and wondered exactly what kind of history Sara and Grissom had with each other. It was none of my business, and I'd never ask. But it didn't take a trained investigator to notice that he acted differently around her, especially as of late. He didn't treat Warrick or I with cool indifference, or tell Catherine one thing and then turn around and do the exact opposite. What was making him act so peculiar around her?

"Sara," I said firmly. "You are the farthest thing from pathetic. You are intelligent, considerate, and one heck of a good friend. You _do _deserve a life, and you deserve to be happy."

She stopped messing with her breakfast and gave me a half-smile.

"I know this is probably easier said than done, but don't try and put too much conviction into what Grissom says or does," I continued. "Grissom is a brilliant scientist, but if I've learned one thing in working for him all this time, it's that he has the social aptitude of a fruit fly. He's… not good with people. Especially you."

Her smile faded just a little.

"You noticed?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "Sometimes he acts completely normal, and sometimes he positively flinches when you speak. It's weird, but… then again, it's Grissom."

"Well, next time, you can take the solo case."

I grinned at her.

"Thanks, Nick," she said.

"Any time."

I watched her as she took minuscule bites of her yogurt and determined that she looked fractionally more cheerful. It was the best I could do. I could only hope that whatever friction existed between my boss and my coworker dissolved itself soon, and Sara could return to the carefree woman I met two years ago. I couldn't stand seeing my friends in danger or in pain, and though Sara was in no immediate danger, nor had any physical pain, inside, she was miserable.

And that was just as bad.


	4. Rebuff

**A/N: **Just a little something something for today. I have to keep in mind that there are things going on with all the characters as the seasons progress, and I think this is probably about the time Greg is preparing for a change. And as NANCY1 said in one of her reviews, the camaraderie between the youngest four CSIs is definitely obvious at this point, and I like writing about it :)

Spoilers for 3x8, Snuff.

* * *

><p>"Something on your mind, Greggo?"<p>

Nick stared at me expectantly across the table. The seats between us – Warrick and Sara's – were empty, as they were at the bar getting drinks. Since the night we all went to Warrick's after Nigel Crane's arrest, the four of us had made a point of getting together at least once a week. Sara was nice enough to invite me that night, and so, somehow, I'd gotten enmeshed in the group. It was nice to feel included, and it also encouraged what had been on my mind as of late.

"I dunno," I shrugged. "Maybe."

I had been hoping to discuss it with Sara, alone. But the odds hadn't been in my favor, and we hadn't had more than thirty seconds to ourselves since we'd all met at the bar earlier that evening. And as if right on cue, she and Warrick arrived at the table, both with a beer in each hand. So much for confidentiality.

"Just in time," Nick told them. "Greg here is about to share a deep, dark secret."

"What, he's really sweet and charming, and this whole annoying shadow thing is all an act?" Sara teased.

I glared at her.

"No."

"You got a second job, and you're now a dancer at the Tangiers?" Warrick guessed.

"No!" I sneered.

"I know, I know," Nick put in. "You never really went to college, and you just pretend to be smart, when really, you learned everything you know by taping everything Grissom says."

A deep frown was Nick's response.

"Okay, seriously, what is it," Sara said, the joking tone out of her voice.

"Well… I worked with Grissom a little on his fire ants case, and—"

"You helped him out?" Nick interrupted. "I worked that case with him, I didn't see you in the field."

"I took his notes on the timeline."

"That's not working the case, man, that's newbie stuff," Warrick said.

"Guys," Sara interrupted, cutting them off. I threw her a look of appreciation, and her gaze told me to go on.

"I guess I was just thinking… it would be cool to go in the field more," I said. "Like… permanently."

"You wanna become a CSI?" Warrick asked. "You?"

"Lab rat to field mouse?" Nick added. "That's tough, man, you gotta get a lot of experience in the field, take the CSI proficiency test… and pass a field proficiency."

"I think you could do it," Sara said a-matter-of-factly. All our eyes turned towards her. "I do. You were in the field for that bus crash."

"I messed that up, Sara," I said quietly.

"It was your first time," she said kindly. "You should have seen my first day in the field, I was a mess."

"Now, I have a hard time believing that," Warrick said.

"It's true," Sara confirmed. "It'll take some hard work, Greg, but I think you should do it."

"You do?"

"Why not?"

Warrick and Nick watched us stare at each other before adding their own opinions, ones that were a lot more considerate than before.

"It's worth a shot," Nick said. "Even if it doesn't work out, at least you tried."

"Yeah, man, go for it," Warrick added.

We all drained our bottles and Nick glanced at his watch.

"Hate to drink and ditch, but I've got places to be," he said. "Catch you all later?"

"Bye, Nick."

"Bye."

"I'm gonna have to follow suit," Warrick said. "People to see. Later."

Sara waved him off and turned back towards me.

"So… you really think I should do it? Try for a field position?"

Sara put her elbows on the table and leaned forward onto them.

"With one question," she said. "Why do you want to go into the field?"

I thought about it for a second, and realized that the lab had several advantages. Better pay, scheduled hours, safety. But there was one major disadvantage, and that was what had been nagging me all along.

"Out in the field, you get to make a difference," I said. "I'm tired of dealing with samples on a tray all day. I want to _really_ do something."

Sara stared at me, and for a moment, I'd thought I'd failed, but then the corners of her lips pulled up, and she was grinning at me.

"Do it," she said.

"I—"

"Do it," she repeated. "I think you'll surprise everyone. And if you need any help, you know where to find me. Another beer?"

I nodded, and watched as she trooped back off to the bar for two more bottles. It wasn't something that I was ready to do immediately, but I decided right then and there that when the time was right, I'd try my best to make the leap from lab rat to field mouse.

If not for me, then for the one person who believed wholeheartedly in me.


	5. Curious Desire

**A/N: **I never caught that line before, Grissom's _"I don't know, I was on a date"_. I don't know if this is anything good, but I wanted to post once more before the break. Have a great weekend!

Spoilers for episode 3x9, Blood Lust.

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><p>"He said the D-word?"<p>

"He said the D-word."

"Tell me exactly what he said," I pressed.

Brass didn't even have to pause to think.

"He was the only one to respond to the scene, I asked him where everyone was," he began. "He said, and I quote, 'I don't know, I was on a date myself'."

"What?"

Brass shook his head.

"I know," he said. "You know something's up when the resident hermit has a better social life then you do."

"You're telling me," I said, shaking my head. "Wow. I never saw that coming. He's been acting so… weird lately."

"Maybe it's due to his newfound lady friend, I dunno," Brass guessed.

"Do you know who it was?" I asked. "Teri Miller was in town just a few weeks ago… do you think?..."

"Nah, she's married," he replied.

"Well, I'm gonna get it out of him."

"Catherine…"

"Aren't you curious?" I exclaimed. "I know I am."

"If he doesn't want us to know, then—"

I cut him off by charging out of the room. I'd just seen Grissom walk past – he must have just left Sara in ballistics – and though my arms will still full of wrapping paper, I chased after him.

"Gil!" I called out, jogging and breathless. "Hi."

"Well, hi," he said, looking spiritedly bemused. "Are those for me?"

"Lindsey," I answered simply. "So… how are you?"

"You chased me down the hallway to ask me how I'm doing?" he asked.

"Well, I've had the last few days off," I reasoned. "That's a lifetime for our standards."

"I'm good," he replied.

I could tell he was about finished with our little conversation, so I acted fast.

"We did Lindsey's cake last night," I blurted, even though we hadn't. "I was going to call you to come, but… you know, I didn't know if you were busy or not."

He lifted his head slightly in response.

"Were you?" I prodded. "Ease my conscious, I feel bad for not calling you."

"I was busy," he assured.

"Good!" I exclaimed. "Doing, ah… doing what?"

"I had dinner with a friend," he said, gratifying me, although I could tell he would rather not be having this conversation at all.

My eyes were wide and my head nodding, but I waited expectantly.

"You remember Heather, from the sandbox case a while ago?"

I gaped.

"You had a date with Heather?" I uttered.

"Who said it was a date?"

"I—nobody," I covered quickly. "Yeah, I remember her."

He shrugged nonchalantly.

"She shares my enthusiasm for afternoon tea," he said. "I joined her yesterday, and ended up staying for dinner. She's an excellent conversationalist."

And with that, he took a sharp turn into DNA, and left me standing there, staring after him.

"I bet."

* * *

><p>"This is Brass."<p>

"It was Heather."

"Catherine?"

"It was Heather he had a date with," I rushed on. "Though he told _me_ it was just dinner, but we all know what he told you…"

Brass sighed, sounding almost disappointed and aggravated.

"Lady Heather?" he said. "Out of all the fish in the sea…"

"You aren't excited?" I asked, flabbergasted. "She could finally pull his eyes away from the microscope lens. This is great!"

"Eh," Brass said noncommittally. "I had a bad feeling about her. And after all my years on this job, I usually tend to listen to my instincts."

"Well, I liked her," I countered. "And Lord knows Grissom could use more distractions in his life."

I ended the call, pleased with myself. So maybe I had expected someone nerdier than Teri Miller, and Heather certainly did not fit in that category, but sexy and seductive were on another whole level. I was pleasantly shocked.

"Way to go, Gil," I muttered to myself.


	6. Two Time Downer

**A/N: **And we're back! Just a brief rundown: Spike skipped playing Lady Heather's Box, but that's a biggie, so I'm going to post on that later today. Today is also Crash and Burn, which we all know is a biggie, so look out for that tomorrow. And then we'll roll on to the end of season three by the end of the week!

Spoilers for episode 3x14, One Hit Wonder. Also references to Blood Lust and Let the Seller Beware.

* * *

><p>"The best intentions are often fraught with disappointment."<p>

"Emerson?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Grissom."

His words were probably meant to quiet my unease, but it wasn't working. I felt betrayed, dissatisfied and disappointed, both in Melissa, and in myself. He was turning towards the door, but I didn't want him to leave.

"Grissom?" I called out.

He stopped and turned back towards me.

"Wanna… go somewhere?" I asked him. "Get breakfast, maybe?"

"I have to go meet Catherine at P.D.," he said. "Book our Peeping Tom turned rapist."

"Later?"

He stared at me, and I realized how long it had been since we had worked together. At least a month – since the taxi driver had been beaten up for running over an already injured kid. I couldn't remember the last time we talked… it—

With a shiver, I remembered the last time we'd really had a conversation. I'd told him the things he told me were confusing. I left before he could give himself time to explain. No wonder he didn't want to talk to me.

I lifted my gaze to see his eyes still trained on me.

"I can't, Sara," he said softly.

I opened my mouth to say more, but before I could utter a sound, he was out the door, and I was left alone in the locker room. I dropped my head into my hands and stared at the floor for an indeterminate amount of time.

"Find something interesting down there?"

Nick's voice startled me. I picked my head up and stared at him, unsure of what to say.

"I heard what happened," he said kindly. "I'm sorry, Sara."

"I'm going to have to stand up in court, and testify that my friend is a killer," I said slowly.

Nick had been right. It would have been better to just not know the truth. It would have hurt less. But Nick was never one to say 'I told you so', so he sat on the bench beside me and stared at the same patch of concrete my eyes were still focused on.

"You're a great CSI, Sara," he said.

I shook my head.

"How can I be, when I'm such a terrible judge of character?" I asked.

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself," he said, nudging my knee with his. "It happens to everybody."

"It seems to happen to me a little more than usual," I said dully. "Want a breakdown of relationships that have let me down?"

"I think we're both guilty of the same fault," he said. "We trust people too much."

I nodded.

"And sometimes, that trust gets us hurt," he continued. "But other times, it can be our best quality. Don't lose your faith in people, Sara."

I nodded again, not wanting to speak, lest my voice crack with emotion. He was saying everything I'd so desperately wanted to hear from Grissom just moments ago.

"Come on," he said, standing up from the bench and looking at me expectantly. "Let's get breakfast."

"Aren't you busy?" I asked, rising anyways. "Grissom said you guys just wrapped a case."

Nick shrugged, grabbed his jacket from his locker and made towards the door.

"Not too busy for breakfast with a friend."

I shrugged, and followed him out the door. I guess a lot of people were showing their true colors today. But I knew that at the rate I was going, it wouldn't take long before I lost whatever faith in people I had left.


	7. Outside Grissom's Box

**A/N: **To follow, if you're not ready to throw rocks at me yet.

Spoilers for episode 3x15, Lady Heather's Box.

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><p>The door, thankfully, opened.<p>

She was surprised to see me, no doubt, but before she could utter a word, I began what I hoped she'd consider better than an apology.

"You know me," I said sincerely as her eyes narrowed at me. "And it scares me."

She studied me, the way only she could.

"But it also pleases you," she said eventually. "Offers… relief, perhaps?"

"You're the only one who knows," I said softly. "Besides my doctor, of course."

"You doubted me."

"I never should have."

"I thought you were a man who trusted his instincts," she said.

"I am a man who, oftentimes, gets very confused."

We spent another few moments starting at each other, and in those fleeting seconds, I remembered the warmth of the touch we'd shared the previous day, the softness of her hair and the proximity of her body. It was very clear to us then what we wanted – I had not been confused. Now…I wasn't sure what I was expecting from this visit, but I was fairly certain it was not a mistake.

"Are you confused now?" Heather asked.

"No."

"You said you lost your balance."

"And that is true," I admitted.

"Losing your hearing frightens you," she said.

"I fear that I will be a different person without it," I explained. "The stability of my world is crumbling at my feet."

"And that's why you've come to me?"

"No," I said softly, taking a step towards her. "I think we both know why I am here."

"You still have the power to say stop, Mr. Grissom," she breathed.

I inched forward, my toes just barely over the threshold.

"I'm not saying stop."

"Then come in."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So make of that what you will. I'm not the biggest Lady Heather fan, but after re-watching the episode, and a loooot of thinking about what I thought happened and what I'd write, I think at that point in his life, Grissom _did_ go in the house and _did _see LH that night. I know that was short, but as a GSR fan at heart, I couldn't bring myself to go into detail. **  
><strong>

We'll carry on tomorrow. See you then :)


	8. And Scarred

**A/N: **It was interesting to see everyone's varying opinions on last chapter. I guess that's the beauty of fanfiction - we can all have different interpretations on what we think happens behind the scenes. As Immokk pointed out, I did leave it pretty open-ended, and that's mostly because I still can't decide how to take the last scene in LHB.

But anyway, this one pretty much wrote itself. Spoilers for episode 3x17, Crash and Burn.

* * *

><p>"Thanks."<p>

Her single word surprised me. We hadn't exchanged any – not a one – since we pulled out of the parking lot of P.D. And that was okay with me. I was surprised enough that she'd let me take her out, let me be in her company instead of pulling away.

"For taking me here," she continued, clarifying. "I needed this."

I took a long sip of my beer and placed it on the coaster in front of me.

"You wanna talk about it?"

I didn't know the details of Sara's relationship with Hank, or the nature of their break-up. But I'd helped friends through enough traumatic break-ups that I knew how to handle the situation.

"No," Sara sighed. "But it won't help brooding about it either."

"Well, he was a jerk," I offered.

Sara nodded slowly, and I could tell she wasn't entirely convinced.

"See, he kinda wasn't," she said. "Before today, I mean. We had fun together. He made me laugh. I guess I tricked myself into believing that this time would be different."

"That it would work out?" I guessed.

"That I wouldn't end up hurt," she corrected. "I've been cheated on one too many times, Catherine, and soon enough, it just gets old."

"He cheated on you?"

"Well, I guess technically speaking, he cheated on his girlfriend _with _me."

My mouth stayed open.

"Sara, if that doesn't classify him as a jerk, then I don't know what does."

She gave me the tiniest of smiles, and I couldn't help but feel genuinely sorry for her. We weren't close, and most of that was my fault. It was probably entirely my fault. I felt threatened by her the moment she step foot in the lab those years ago, despite her talent and caliber. But every woman knows the pain of a broken heart, and if I couldn't be there for Sara, when she so obviously needed someone, what kind of person would I be? Besides, maybe it was about time she and I put aside our differences and really started working at being friends.

"I'm really sorry he hurt you," I said, as softly as I could in the bar. "You didn't deserve that. But you can let this beat you up, or you can walk away with your head held high."

"And how can I do that?" Sara asked skeptically. "I'm not you, Catherine."

"By telling yourself that this is the last time you'll be cheated on," I said firmly. "The last time you'll be taken advantage of in a relationship. Let yourself see the silver lining – you know all the signs, now you'll be able to avoid them in the future."

"Well, I'm swearing off men for a while," Sara said. "Maybe forever."

"Oh, come on," I prodded. "There's got to be someone else you have your eye on."

For the tiniest second, I could swear that I saw melancholy flash across Sara's face. But as soon as it was there, it was gone again, and she was staring dully at her empty bottle.

"Thanks again for this," she said. "It helped."

She rose from her seat as if to leave.

"Let me drive you back," I said, as she'd left her car at CSI.

"I'll get a cab."

"Sara," I called out, making her stop. "This might have helped, but you're still not okay."

She bit her lip.

"I guess I'm just tired of people letting me down," she said, avoiding my gaze.

"That's all?"

"And… I'm tired of letting other people down," she said dejectedly.

I paused.

"Eddie?"

Her eyes rose to meet mine and she nodded slowly.

"I'm so sorry, Cath," she said. "I wanted to solve it so badly. I cracked a case that had been cold for years, but I couldn't close a case for someone you loved."

I remembered hearing about Sara's friend Melissa, and how the story of her husband's death had been an utter lie. A lie that Sara had fallen for. First Melissa, then Hank.

"You've had one hell of a few weeks," I said sympathetically.

"I guess."

"I said some harsh things to you after Eddies death," I began.

"You had every right—"

"No, Sara," I interrupted. "I'm trying to apologize. I'm sorry for what I said to you… and I'm sorry that you've had to deal with all this. It's a lot for one person to handle."

Slowly, Sara started to nod, and I could see the vulnerability of her emotion starting to fade.

"So… are you going to be all right?" I asked.

"Yeah," Sara answered. "Yeah, I'll be okay. Thanks, Catherine."

"You're welcome."

She gave me one last smile and started towards the door.

"Hey, Sara?"

She turned.

"Can I give you one last piece of advice?"

"Shoot," she said.

"Don't tell the guys about what Hank did to you," I said. "Or else they'll soon be on trial for murder."

She winked at me, and I sat back, finished the rest of my beer and smiled, hoping that if one good think could come of Sara's heartbreak, it could be the start of a long overdue friendship.


	9. And Get Burned

**A/N: **Sorry this is later than usual, stoopid work. Look out for Inside the Box later tonight.

Spoilers for episode 3x22, Play with Fire.

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><p>I had to get out of there… <em>fast<em>.

As soon as my conversation with Grissom ended, tears were already welling in my eyes, threatening to spill over, and the very last thing I wanted to do in front of him was cry. He already apparently thought so little of me – little enough to never find me worthy of working together, and certainly not worthy of having dinner together. Crying in front of him would probably reduce me to a worthless mess not even worthy of working at the-number-freaking-two-lab-in-the-country. I clenched my good hand tight, my fingernails digging into my palms, and although I knew he must have been right behind me, I walked fast, twisting and turning down the hallways, just willing to get to my car and get myself home.

I was almost there – just feet away from the door, when Nick cut me off.

"Hey, Sara," he said without looking up. "Wanna go to the hospital and…"

He looked up and stopped short. I must not have been doing as good a job of holding back my emotions as I thought.

"…visit Greg," he finished slowly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said brusquely, trying to push past him.

"Sara," he called out while I kept walking. "Sara!"

Although breakfasts with Nick and drinks with Catherine and jokes with Greg had made me feel better temporarily, I knew they wouldn't help now, and the last thing I wanted to do was be around anybody… especially any one from work, who could probably see how pitifully obvious I was, and how disinterested in me Grissom was. I felt pathetic.

My drive home was a blur, if I ran any stoplights or rolled past any stop signs, I was unaware of it. But I made it home somehow, and I entered my empty, quiet apartment in a trance and walked, zombie-like, to the couch, dropping my bag on the way and not really caring where it fell.

On the fluffy cushions, I pulled my legs up in front of me, buried my face in my hands and let the tears flow. The quantity of them surprised me, they just kept on coming, and I knew I was rapidly becoming even more pathetic than I already was, but at that moment, I didn't care. The gash in my hand, bandaged as it was, was throbbing, but I used it anyways to wipe away my tears, pushing my hand against my cheeks and making the wound throb even more.

But I relished the pain. I wanted it. I didn't care how much I hurt myself, because maybe it would help to numb the pain of Grissom's rejection.

Why, _why_, had I been stupid enough to ask him? I should have known what he'd say. I guess I just wished that this time would be different. That if I told him outright what I wanted, and what I was feeling, he would stop and pay attention to me. Not worth my efforts at work, not worth companionship at dinner, and not worth his attention.

Worthless.

I hadn't eaten all day, and I knew I should take the mild pain pills given for my cuts and bruises and pounding headache, but instead, I sat on the couch, cried until my tears dried up and headed to the shower, where I turned the spray to stinging cold. I relished the goose bumps on my skin and the shivers that ran through my body. My sobs began again, tears mixing in with the water, and this time, each sob wracked my body, each breath rattled in my chest until I exhausted myself, and sank to the floor of the shower, shuddering and freezing. I reached up and stopped the spray of water, but didn't bother drying off before crawling into my bed and pulling the covers over my head.

I was done trying. There was obviously nothing I could do - no amount of impressing or flirting or closeness - that would change Grissom's mind about me. And I was done humiliating myself. Of that I was sure. I made a vow to, after today, act as professional and indifferent at work as I could, but inside, I was giving up on Gil Grissom.

Because that was what he wanted.

I pressed my eyes closed, and, against all odds, felt more tears slipping out. Thank God I had the night off, because I wasn't sure if I could emerge from the blankets any time soon.


	10. Hear Me

**A/N:** I honestly didn't think I'd make it even this far in the post-episode series, but you guys inspire me and keep me wanting to write! We've reached the end of season three... look out for season four's story, "A Blind Eye" to be started tomorrow.

Spoilers for episode 3x23, Inside the Box.

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><p>"The next week will tell us more, but from what I can see, everything went well."<p>

"Thank you, doctor."

They were out of the room and halfway across the hallway, but even with my ears still heavily bandaged, I could vaguely hear the conversation. Relief washed over me for the first time since I had woken up, groggy and anxious, after the surgery. Nobody had come by since – no opportunity to check out my new ears – but Catherine had apparently waited out the procedure in the waiting room and was anxious to be my first (and only) visitor. She shook hands with the doctor and walked into my room.

"Hey," she said, smiling.

"Hi."

"So… doctor says all went well."

I tilted my head.

"It's a little skewed right now, but I'm hopeful," I said, not wanting to be too positive on the chance something went wrong.

Catherine took a seat beside my bed.

"I know I said this already, but… thanks again," I told her. "It means a lot to me that you're here."

"Can I ask you something?" she blurted. I gestured for her to continue. "Why didn't you tell the guys? I'm sure this is something they'd want to know."

I paused, considering her question. It was a loaded one. Answering it completely honestly would give away everything that had been on my mind the past year – my self-doubting, my anxiety for the future and most of all, my confusion and mixed feelings when it came to Sara. I don't know when or where or how or why our relationship had gotten so complicated. It seemed like only yesterday Nick and I were dropping dummies off a roof and she was there, behind me. It seemed like things were so simple. Since then, she'd invited another man into her life, I'd been faced with a challenging disability, I'd become more reserved, and we'd grown more distant. Seeing her sitting on the sidewalk, injured and looking scared, or sad, I couldn't tell which, had concerned me. I hated seeing her in pain. But as soon as she walked away, I realized I never saw her anymore. I wasn't sure I still knew who she was any more. I had no one to blame but myself, Sara only reminded me of everything I was unsure of in my life. I would be lying if I said I hadn't been keeping her at arm's length… because she scared me.

She still did.

But I was nowhere near a hospital-bed confession, so I raised and lowered a shoulder, and answered Catherine's question diplomatically.

"I'm the supervisor," I said. "I'm not supposed to be inadequate."

She just stared at me.

"I haven't even decided if I'm comfortable having you here yet," I said, my tone light.

She smiled.

"Well, I won't say a word to anyone unless you want me to," she said.

"Thank you," I replied softly. "I appreciate that."

She dropped her gaze, and I noticed that something seemed off about her. Years of working together had resulted in a subtle communication between us, and though neither of us saw the other as a confidant, per se, nor did we spill our secrets and emotions to each other on a regular basis, we did have a stable support system. And I felt as though her support for me warranted a similar undertaking from me.

"Is everything okay with you?" I asked.

She brought her hands to her mouth and sighed deeply.

"Sam Braun is my father," she said simply as I gaped at her. "I… compared my DNA to the unknown blood in the deposit box… seven alleles in common. I should have known."

"How could you?"

Catherine shrugged.

"I'm just disappointed in him, that's all," she said. "A huge part of my life, and he couldn't trust me enough to tell me."

"I guess it's been one heck of a day for both of us."

"You got that right," she said, before handing me a pile of my clothes. "Come on, I'll drive you home."

I looked at her in surprise.

"I can go home?"

"Technically, they wanted to keep you for a night," she said, before throwing me a wink. "I convinced them otherwise. As long as you stay away from work for at least a week, you're free and clear."

"I owe you, Cath."

"You always do."


End file.
